


Les Revenants

by gyromitra



Series: Les Revenants [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Additional tags will be added as I get around to writing this, Angst, Descriptions of violent acts, F/F, F/M, How do I English?, If you squint the right way it might be sex, M/M, Might as well put it down now: Character Death, Might as well put it down: Surprise Talon characters, On Screen and Behind the scenes, Overwatch!Reaper, Random Blackwatch OCs, Talon!Jack, Talon!Tracer, This is the shit I usually write
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-30
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-08-27 22:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8419657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gyromitra/pseuds/gyromitra
Summary: Sarcastic Summary: With the resurgence of the Overwatch, Talon steps up their game with their two top operatives: Falcon and Tracer. One's a terrorist and other's a hitman. Along the way they pick up Overwatch's commander. It all boils down to the fact that Jack's back (not necessarily in black).
Sarcastic Chapter Summary: There is a snuff movie, Falcon is in trouble, Gabriel has a nervous breakdown, Hana hates not winning, and Sombra misses her daddy.





	1. Prologue

The room they have him in is too clean, too surgical. There are only bare white walls, a table, one mirror and the chair he’s bound in. No terminal on any of the surfaces. He is through thirteenth test of his restraints when the doors open with a pressurized hiss.

Gabriel narrows his eyes, observing. The one that comes in so casually brings his own chair. He takes time to set it up right, and sits on the other side of the table. Great, fucking great, it’s the mask that’s the face of Talon’s international terrorism, Falcon. 

“I’m glad you are awake, mister Reyes,” that cordial air in every released video is present here too. White-haired man skims the folder, which he places on the table, and his gloved hands on it in succession. “Because I’m talking to mister Gabriel Reyes, callsign ‘Reaper’, self-appointed commander of illegally reactivated institution called Overwatch?”

“When you put it this way…” Gabriel laughs in challenge.

“Good, we are on the same page then. Because, you see, mister Reyes, the inside of your head hides a lot of information my employers are very interested in.”

“Good luck getting it,” Falcon nods at him in acknowledgement.

“The same thing I explained to my superiors. But know, mister Reyes, that every man has a price, and my employers can be extremely generous.”

“There’s nothing you can give me,” Gabriel snarls.

“You say that, yet…” Falcon’s taloned hand raises to his signature mask, and with near inaudible click he takes it off and places next to the folder on the table. Gabriel freezes. He should have seen this coming miles away, it’s Jack, fucking Jack, with his lips vaguely curled in a mocking half-smirk. Even the wounds he had seen on blonde’s body are here, healed, scarred over. 

“Jack… Jack, what the fuck did they do to you…?” Gabriel asks weakly.

“Nothing too unsightly, I assure you, mister Reyes, but this ‘Jack’, you mention, wouldn’t he happen to be… Ah, yes, Strike-Commander John Morrison?” Falcon taps the folder with one of his claws. “Who, by the way, reportedly was your lover, mister Reyes?” 

Answer doesn’t come, the other man stubbornly stares down. It’s only the sound of safety coming off that captures his attention.

“There are two possible outcomes now, mister Reyes.” Falcon brings the gun to his own head. “You refuse, and then we are back on page one. Don’t try to call the bluff because the trigger will be pulled by the person in the other room, not me.” Gun comes to rest on the table. “Or you negotiate,” Falcon stands up and circles the table, his face suddenly close, much too close, enough for Gabriel to feel the man’s breath. Their lips meet, and, oh god, he knows he shouldn’t, he can’t, but it’s Jack, his Jack, kissing him, and he forgot how electric it feels. So he loses himself in the feeling.

When Falcon moves back, there is a string of saliva still connecting them.

“As I mentioned, my employers are extremely generous, they might even give you your ‘Jack’ back.” Falcon collects the folder and the gun, but the mask, he slides it to the center of the table. “I will let you mull it over, mister Reyes.” He leaves and there is one broken man in his wake.

Outside, Tracer is already waiting for him.

“Oi, luv, I got real real shivers watching you work, babe. That was so so hot, as always.” She glues to his back, hands roaming his chest possessively, teeth nibbling on his ear.”Say what, babe, a bloody quickie before I might have to bloody blow your brains out?”

“Let’s give him till the end of next assignment.”

“But bump uglies nonetheless?”

Falcon laughs.

“As you wish, miss Oxton. We have all the time we need.”


	2. 1st Movement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Chapter Summary: There’s a dance at Sydney Opera House, Tracer and Falcon have their invitations ready. Falcon apparently likes to snark Gabriel.

First time the world met Falcon is the terror attack on New Sydney Opera House. Later, it is obvious that the whole affair was a simple misdirection to cover a simultaneous break in into Sydney military research facility. Yet, the images captured by news drones helped to create and strengthen the narrative.

He is clearly in control, giving orders, talking, even waving at cameras at one point, but then comes the defining moment, ingrained into popular culture, when a woman in red body suit blinks into existence next to him. She isn’t hard to identify as an Overwatch defector, Lena Oxton, callsign Tracer.

Falcon holds his hand to her and she accepts. They dance in slow motion for the whole world to see. Upon viewing the footage some claim you can see love and passion in how they move. When they stop, she disappears and drones go dark. Last frame captured by any of the cameras is always a close up of Tracer’s laughing face.

Next came the citywide broadcast on compromised holoscreens, in which Falcon gave his speech, first of many to follow.

“Fellow citizens,” he articulates with his hands, his face hidden behind now iconic mask. “Know that what happens next is a direct result of criminal abuses perpetrated by an organization you know as Overwatch and its nefarious underground arm, Blackwatch. They did this to you, not me. For all it’s worth, I’m sorry for your suffering, but the cancer must be burned out with prejudice, otherwise it will spread and consume all. You will thank me, in the end.”

Explosive charges detonate around several cultural landmarks all over the city. Nevertheless, the fact that the explosions seemed to be placed with an aim of leveling some very specific buildings is still discussed to this day. New Sydney Opera House sinks underwater. 

 

***

 

When he hears the hiss again, Gabriel knows that around twelve hours must have passed. He is parched, but also intimately aware this is intentional on their part, a very basic technique. 

“God morning, mister Reyes.” Falcon moves the mask to the side and places a glass of water directly in the line of sight of the other man, not minding the resulting growl. “First, let me remind you, mister Reyes, that my associate is in the other room, and from this distance she won’t miss. And even, if she inexplicably does, she will just redo it. Her target won’t be you, but me.” His words are punctuated by several metallic knocks coming from the other side of the mirror. “Now drink up, mister Reyes. I imagine it must be uncomfortable, but you will have to excuse us for not letting your nanomachines run rampart just yet.”

Gabriel feels the restraints come off and the first thing he does is massage his wrists. No more.

“You disappoint me, mister Reyes,” Falcon sighs. “If I wanted to fill you with drugs, I would have done it much earlier and there wouldn’t be a thing you could have done to stop me.” Clawed hand seizes the glass and he takes a sip, returning it to its place on the table immediately after. His fingers leave a rusty smudge on the gleaming surface. “Our conversation, mister Reyes, would only improve in quality if you didn’t have to growl all your answers at me,” he chides.

Gabriel drinks and then slams the glass down.

“Good. Now, mister Reyes, tell me what will it be?” Falcon’s smile is condescendingly knowing.

“Negotiation.”

“Second page then, mister Reyes. I will advise you against stepping out of the line and entertaining some heroic idea about saving me, or him, for that matter. There is a device in my cranium rigged to liquefy my brain under certain conditions,” Falcon taps lightly back of his own head with a finger. “What exactly are those conditions, I do not know myself.”

“Then the first thing I want is to have it removed,” Gabriel straightens and puts his own hands on the table, palms down to the cold surface. He knows how to play the game, and it makes Jack – no, Falcon – smile in appreciation, because he is prepared. He had studied the man for what seemed years now.

“It’s too early for such demands, mister Reyes, but as a token of goodwill my employers got you a present I think you will enjoy personally.” Falcon fishes out a little gadget out of his pocket, slides it between them. ”This will give you five minutes worth of time with John Morrison himself. It has to be used in three meter radius of my person. Activation, as well as any attempt at tampering, bricks it.”

Gabriel considers it. Without any warning he brings his fist down, crushing the device. What surprises him is the fact that suddenly Falcon arches in his chair, straining, spit on his lips while his muscles lock for several seconds, each one counting down as if it were an eternity, and then falls down, almost falls off and slides. Gabriel doesn’t even notice when he vaults the table and rests kneeling in front of the other man, looking into groggy and confused blue.

“Jack…?” The name hangs tentatively in the air between them and there is a glimmer of recognition.

“Gabe… your face, it’s…” Jack brings his hand up, to touch, but his eyes notice dried blood on the glove. “Oh god… god, what have I done, Gabe?”

He doesn’t answer, just crushes him in an embrace that tries to make up for all the years that passed them by.

“You did nothing wrong, nothing wrong, baby,” Gabriel hears his own voice cracking, while he holds the crying man. But the moment passes when lips brush his ear.

“Did you enjoy your little reunion, mister Reyes?” He asks seductively, laughing shortly when Gabriel shoves him off. Lena, who came in unnoticed, bends down and affectionately ruffles Falcon’s white hair.

“Yes, Gabi, luv, how do you like our precious Jackie-boy? Isn’t he just just so sexy you want to eat him up, and see him bleed?” Tracer’s eyes gleam dangerously. “Precious Jackie-boy, our sweet bloody wonder boy, will even let you take him by force, and beg you to stop, if you want, Gabi, while you crack the bones and ruin that sexy face too, luv.”

“Miss Oxton, you embarrass me with your praise.” The thing, the enemy wearing his dead lover’s skin like it is his own, smiles at the deranged woman.

Gabriel, feeling the dread clawing at his insides, at least now knows, after all this time, the answer to the most important question – why.

 

***

 

Through the first years of his activity, Falcon is not thought to be directly affiliated with any established organization. His appearances are not possible to connect and there is no visible pattern, for example plane hijacking in Mongolia and insurrection in Indonesia, both traced to singular bidders in the mercenary business, making him a terrorist for hire. 

This, of course, changed in the light of new facts that came under scrutiny several years later after his disappearance and presumed death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's too little evil Jack going around, so I'm writing my own. Non-English speaker, criticism welcome. I will try to keep the tags and summaries as unspoilery as possible.


	3. Four minutes, thirty-three seconds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Chapter Summary: WIkiLeaks by Sombra. Smoky kisses an Bond villain escape. Literal bomb drops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Criticism, speculation, whatever, welcome. I like how Sombra turned out pretty much how I've imagined her. Though, of course, this Sombra has some quirks that are AU specific.

12.04.2080, there is a first of so-called Sombra Leaks. Each of them is a gargantuan data dump, most of it irrelevant and trivial, messages, video feeds, voice files, sources ranging from your local police department to the governments and corporations. It takes two weeks for international community to catalogue everything. There are some pieces that are referred to as annotated. One stands out. It is a voice feed, voices are scrambled beyond a possibility of recognition, two people speaking.

A: Project Archnid?

( _Point of origin, UN subnet. Talon encryption, evolution of Blackwatch code, moved left two steps._ )

B: Moderate success. In the end there were too many questions raised.

A: But he took the shot?

( _He? Was Cherie a distraction?_ )

B: Yes, yes, he did, even if he got hung up on any decision making tree and had to be taken to and from the scene.

A: Those kinks can be worked out later.

( _No. Doesn’t fit exactly. Were they tying up loose ends?_ )

B: I agree.

A: You have a green light for phase two. Remember, we need the subject a bit more believable than Arachnid and to keep its original capabilities.

B: Copy that. Out.

 

***

 

Two hours later, when the doors open again, there is a certain sense of urgency in the air.

“As much as I’d love to spend more quality time with you, mister Reyes, this base is compromised.” Falcon flicks his hand and the collar stops interfering. Gabriel lets nanites work through it, partially out of spite. “We have to move.”

“Then maybe I should just wait here.”

“Believe me, mister Reyes, those are not your friends that are coming for us. But since you are being difficult,” Falcon sighs. “Miss Oxton, on a count of five, please?”

Tracer brings a gun to his head.

“Sure, luv, Jackie-boy. One fiery ball of death from the skies.”

“We had a deal.” Gabriel gnashes his teeth.

“A deal you don’t intend to keep by committing suicide, mister Reyes.”

“Four fiery balls of death from above,” Lena chants in the background and Gabriel raises defiantly.

“Thank you, mister Reyes. Now, please, follow us.”

The base is stripped. There is no sign anyone was here, maybe a pack of cigarettes forgotten on a bench. It is bizarre, Gabriel notes, since only two hours ago he heard machinery and people bustling beyond his prison.

“So who is coming?” He presses for information. This elicits a chuckle from Falcon.

“I assure you, mister Reyes, that you know them, but I will leave the pleasure of finding out on your own to you.”

“It’s not an answer,” Gabriel growls.

“It is as close to an answer as you will get right now, mister Reyes. Some things are better left unsaid till the time has come.” They enter an elevator, it hums silently, and Tracer suddenly presses a gun to Gabriel’s head before he even decided to move. Falcon lifts his hand. “Easy, miss Oxton, I believe I know what mister Reyes intends to do.”

So, the decision made for him, Gabriel grabs the man and kisses him. Falcon leans into it, arches his body into it, his hands come up and fingers tangle into dark hair. And he inhales, deep, holds his breath. When Gabriel steps back, he parts his lips and exhales a dark fume of oily smoke, it swirls, dissipates, but a tendril makes its way back to Reaper and reintegrates.

“I wonder, mister Reyes, is this something you knew your nanites were capable of, or was it a spur of a moment?” Falcon chuckles as elevator stops and they are outside.

There are five people total on the ground and a flight ready personnel carrier on the concrete slab of the landing pad, Gabriel notices. One person is kneeling and bloodied, hands tied behind his back. Everyone is armored and armed, Talon design obvious in the gear they are sporting.

“Mister Reyes, your equipment is there,” Falcon points to a nearby crate. “But I’d ask you not to shoot my people, they are prone to shoot back, and miss Oxton, well,” he smiles, that mocking smirk driving him crazy, “she might be prone to shooting at me.”

Falcon moves to the pacified man, who doesn’t even lift his head, but the tension in his shoulders tells another story.

“I expected that from you, Thay. You were never loyal to the cause.”

“This… this is going to get millions dead,” the man spits from between broken lips.

Falcon smirks and pulls the trigger. The execution is fast, one shot to the head. None of the other agents on the ground seem to mind.

“Okay, people, we are overstaying our welcome. Load up.”

“Ah, Commander, good ta see ya ‘live and all.” The southern drawl surprises him, and Gabriel turns to look at a familiar face, goofy smile and sincerity in voice. No, he never forgets a face. Cat’s Cradle, Wilma Chan, Blackwatch. Former Blackwatch, he reminds himself. “Love ta chat up, but Boss a callin’, Commander. Ya know how it is, on the job.” She pats his arm, and Gabriel stays indifferent, his nagging for years suspicions now changed to certainty.

“How many of you are with Talon?”

“A lotsa, Commander, ta be frank.” Wilma quips, shrugging, and moves to board the carrier. Falcon waits for the last person and then helps Tracer up.

The terrorist is almost chipper.

“Call your friends, mister Reyes,” he shouts over the sound of rotors, leaning out of the raising craft. “And put some distance from what’s coming.” Side doors close.

But Gabriel can still hear.

“Oi, luv, you good?”

Falcon’s answer is slightly slurred, which surprises him, the man had been perfectly composed seconds earlier.

“Only a little bit of cerebral hemorrhage, miss Oxton. Nothing that can’t be fixed when we’re home.”

“Boss, glad the deal went through, but we have a take off at Forta, five minutes to position, so we should scram.” This voice is slightly familiar too.

“I believe this is your call, miss Oxton.”

“Sweetie, Jackie-boy, you only had to…”

The carrier in the sky shimmers, straight up disappears, and Gabriel feels his connection physically severed. So he heeds the advice and puts his mask on.

“I’m in Bumfuck, Indiana, and I need someone to come get me,” he grumbles before anyone can ask him anything. “Converge on my GPS, because I’m not walking fifty kilos to the closest city from Talon base.”

“Gabriel, where have you been!? We were worried sick!” It’s Angela. Gabriel considers for a second.

“I know who Falcon is, but it won’t do us any good.” She hesitates.

“Is it safe to…?”

“It’s whatever’s left of Jack.” Gabriel comes back in his mind to Zurich and to the quirk on blonde’s  lips, the same smirk that Falcon wears.

“We never… we never identified a body…”

“He is somewhere there, but I don’t think there’s enough of him… wait.”

He sees the bomber in a low flight a second too late, just as it drops down its payload. For the longest time there is only silence and then the earth trembles, roars and spits columns of fire into sky. Thermo-baric bunker buster, Gabriel identifies moment before the blast wave hits him and he blacks out.

 

***

 

Last Sombra Leak was posted on 12.04.2086. The archive contained, among other things, one picture of a pink stylized skull on a black background with a simple caption: ‘We’re coming back. Boop.’

Name of the file read: ‘This_Is_the_End.Boop’.


	4. Nine from Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Chapter Summary: WikiLeaks by Sombra. Reaper has noms. Tasetful nudes and WhiteKnighting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Ana has eyes. Plural. Not a mistake.

12.10.2081, third Sombra Leak. One of the files is a static camera shot of an office, fourteen minutes long. A desk devoid of personal effects and a terminal are visible. At seven minutes and five seconds into the feed a hand holding a half-filled glass appears in upper right corner of the shot.

( _White Queen is under a watchful gaze. 09.09.2069._ )

( _Everything purged._ )

( _Red Queen._ )

At eight minutes forty three second mark the hand disappears from the shot.

At thirteen minutes mark, the shot goes dark.

( _Where. Was. The. White. King?_ )

International community tries for years to find meaning in the video and the annotations added to it. Any and all tries to pin a definite identification to the office and the person in the shot failed.

 

***

 

With a roar of an angry gale, Gabriel rises, dust swirling around him. Pain remains the same, always, as his body rebuilds itself, fiber by fiber, cell by cell, tendons and bones snapping into place with  sickening slurps and cracks. And then he falls to his knees screaming.

Somehow he is aware of Angela coming closer and placing the canister on the ground. With a few deft movements of her fingers she opens it and makes a step back, then another.

Somehow he is aware of Ana in the copter with a rifle trained steady on him, finger on a hair trigger.

Somehow he is aware of Hana’s frown as she observes them from the relative safety of the cockpit.

The tension is palatable.

Tendrils of dark smoke uncurl from him and travel rapidly along the surface of the earth. They coil around the canister.

He feeds.

Pain subsides, slowly, now only a dull ache remains, one that never leaves, but he has learned to live with it while it pulses beneath his skin restlessly. Swirls of nanites settle, slink and slip in the wind. Gabriel groans.

And just like that Angela covers him with a coat while Ana shoulders her rifle. Hana falls down into her chair with a sigh of relief. They learned the hard way and once was enough.

“What happened here?” Angela helps him to stand up.

“Bunker buster,” the sniper answers in his stead. “How deep was it?”

“At least sixty, probably hundred meters.”

“Nothing left then.”

“No, I don’t think so. They stripped it beforehand.” Gabriel slips into the coat and zips it. “Did it pretty fast.”

“I did some magic, old man,” Hana pipes up. “We had nothing pointing towards Talon having any base here in our archives, and nothing about any activity in Bumfuck, Indiana,” She snickers as he climbs inside and takes a place on the side. “But… I had a hit on an asset. A Blackwatch asset.”

That sinking, nagging feeling is back.

“…fuck this shit!” Gabriel swears, hitting metal bench with his balled fist, frustration apparent in his voice. “He had Blackwatch agents with him. He used Blackwatch base. A base I didn’t know about! What the fuck is going on!?”

“And the bombing raid?” Ana is right to the point.

“From Forta base. Hana, check who authorized that, because that’s a military base.”

“Can do, old man,” she moves to the side as Angela takes co-pilots place. “Yeah, like that, gently, lift her. By the way, old man, I sneaked a few of your tasteful nudes for your fans, and boy, are they trending now.”

And that’s exactly what he needed right now. More shit on his platter. He has no strength to even get a bit angry.

“But no streaming?”

“Old man, you gave me The Talk already. I stream only cheesy shit where we chew gum and kick ass.” She goes back to her console, while Mercy concentrates on piloting.

Ana looks at him, her eyes piercing, and moves to sit by his side. She doesn’t say anything for the longest time. He feels her lingering gaze.

“How are you dealing?” Finally she asks.

“Honestly?” Gabriel snorts. “I’m not. Not at all. I’m going to have a breakdown as soon as I can afford.”

She nods, understanding. She will be there for him.

“Uh, guys, you know… Athena cracked the chain of command and this is something deep. The strike, it was UN authorized. And it went through channels just like that,” Hana snaps her fingers. “Like, ten minutes from request they have it flying.”

 

***

 

Two days later, Gabriel freezes while entering his temporary quarters. On the table, there is a pink phone. It wasn’t there two hours ago. He notices there is no sign of forced entry, windows are closed, and the doors – he unlocked them himself.

The phone starts ringing, a cheery tone, and a message opens.

‘ _Doki, Doki_ ’

‘ _Doki, Doki_ ’, the next one repeats.

‘ _Pick me up, Mr. White Knight_ ’

‘ _Mr. White Knight, pick me up_ ’

‘ _Mommy is calling_ ’

He puts the device to his ear. The voice, it’s a woman, teasing, cocksure.

“So nice of you, mister White Knight, to answer. Daddy wants to meet with you. Three days from now, London. Don’t bring anyone else, we will know. Keep the phone. Ciao.”

 

***

 

Third Sombra Leak contains the first of the picture messages. Filename is ‘Down_Down_Down.boop’. Inside, only one caption in pink and a silhouette of a rabbit, nothing more.

‘The Rabbit Hole.’


	5. Ball of Twine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Summary: A trip to Siberia. Sombra is a playful asshole. Boys go clubbing with yakuza. Meaningful song plays, and Tracer probably is somewhere in the background unseen, doing the old 'now kiss' meme.

05.04.2075. Siberian omnium monitoring footage resurfaces. The video feed is complex and consists of several surveillance frequencies. On the simple visual frequency there are seven people making their way to one of the entrances, the picture heavily distorted, their silhouettes scrambled, but the fact that five of them are in tactical gear is obvious. Other two are possibly a man in a coat and a woman in far too light clothing. Other feeds show nothing out of the ordinary, except for the woman, who appears to be an omnic or a very heavily augmented cyborg. She touches her hand to the blast doors and omnium opens. The group enters inside.

 

***

 

There isn’t even a slightest indication of intrusion, no systems were alerted. The device – the phone – shouldn’t even function. There is no transmission received or sent, it doesn’t look like there is even any antennae inside. And yet, the message pops up, while Hana shakes her head.

‘ _Mr. White Knight, remember the time is tomorrow._ ’

‘ _Daddy is waiting, Mr. White Knight, and the road ahead is arduous._ ’

Gabriel presses his fingers against temples, trying to make any sense out of it all. He can’t. He won’t. He has too little information, and he can’t work with that. He needs to know more.

“Hana, get one of the jets ready. I’m going.”

“As if,” she rolls her eyes. “We are going, grandpa.”

“And for once, I do agree with miss Song,” Genji adds.

“What a charmer, right?”

“No.” Gabriel raises his hand. “You can come, but you keep away. Do you understand?”

“Sure,” Hana blows her bubble gum, the conviction in her voice obviously theatrically fake, and Gabriel knows they are both going to be troublesome. He takes the phone and puts it in his pocket. Ana is waiting for him outside.

“Is it safe?” The woman has a certain concern in her words. No, no, it isn’t, not at all, is what Gabriel wants to answer and what his gut is telling him, but there is also Jack’s face and the need to at least understand what has happened, why did it happen, questions underlying anything he can think of.

“They want something I know, Ana. They are bargaining for it. If they wanted to kill me, they had their chance and they didn’t take it. I don’t think Falcon is a man to play a simple game of catch and release when the offer was already made.”

Ana nods.

“Do you think they will be safe?”

“I will make sure of that.”

 

***

 

It takes two hours of wandering through the busy streets for Gabriel to lose his tail and he does feel some pride both Hana and Genji managed to trail him for that long. It takes another hour for the phone to go off while the evening starts.

“Mister White Knight. So nice of you to keep your promise. Daddy is ready for you. Turn left here.” Gabriel follows the instructions.

“Who am I talking to?”

“Oh, I don’t know if daddy would approve if daddy’s little girl told you, mister White Knight. But I might. Now turn right.”

“And if I turn back?” He needs to ask, curious what the answer will be.

“Then daddy won’t be happy and you might never see him again. Left again, mister White Knight.” Back streets become more and more deserted, Gabriel notices. “Go to the end of the street, take left, and then right. There will be a White Pawn waiting for you.”

“How will I know it’s him?”

“Believe me, mister White Knight, daddy sent him personally and you will know,” she laughs. “Before we part our ways for now, mister White Knight, keep the phone. And one last thing… We are Sombra. Adios.”

The line goes silent. But he heard the rumors about Sombra, a hacker with legendary abilities, or more probably a group of people using the same alias, responsible for cracking and exploiting the vulnerabilities of anyone, even the governments. Doing assignments for money, the exact sums were never mentioned, but the work they did, there had to be many zeroes included. Were they just hired by Talon, or were they Talon’s property?

Another question for another time.

When Gabriel rounds another corner someone tries to catch his attention and he reacts before he thinks, and smashes the man into the brick wall, nanites flaring up defensively in seeking tendrils, moving like they have a mind of their own. In some twisted way, he knows they do.

“ _Kurwa, kapitanie_ , go easy on me.” Gabriel never forgets a face, and the man in the flannel shirt showing his hands, empty palms up, is Richard Malinowski, Raspberry, voice heavy with eastern accent. “I’m just getting you to the boss. And Cat told me to tell you, _kapitanie_ , that we are keeping an eye out for _królową_ , just like the old times, man. _Kurwa_ , this is some downright exciting shit.”

Gabriel slowly releases him and backs off. An agent he would know, and Falcon knew he would know him, personally. If he had Sombra on his payroll, Blackwatch dossiers were not impossible to obtain. And from there, he would know who often worked with him. So far, Cat and Raspberry. But having two of them in his own little retinue (they knew Falcon worked with mostly permanent crew from the footage that was so readily available, the terrorist was never shy of the tv cameras) was more than alarming. Those two were the agents he trusted, back before…

“How many more of you are working with him?” They both know what he means exactly by that.

“ _Kurwa_ , I’m not allowed to say that, _kapitanie_.” Richard laughs. “But hey, _królowa_ , she is important, isn’t she? We are just making sure she doesn’t walk off the fucking cliff on a whim. The last job we have, even if it kills us. _Ah, boże, co my z wami zrobimy_?”

“Knock it off.”

“ _Ale w tym tkwi cała zabawa, nie_?” Richard waves for him to follow, just down another street and they stop before a nondescript doors, that only become apparently reinforced when under scrutiny. Raspberry shows a card to the hidden camera and then, after a discrete click, pushes them open. There’s music carrying through the corridor, fast, with a very distinct beat. “Go right in, _kapitanie_ , the boss will find you. He’s just wrapping up with the yakuzas.”

“ _Królowa_?” The word was not used for a long time, it rolls from his tongue with trouble, and Gabriel hears it sounds completely different from how Richard pronounced it, but the man understands.

“We will fight tooth and nail, _kapitanie_. Those were the last standing orders you left us.” The agent just gives him a nod. “We all screwed it up last time _wyjebiście_ , not going to do that again. She is as safe as she can be now, _w tym popierdolonym świecie_.” There is a certain satisfaction in the fact he knows Gabriel can’t understand him – never could – even if it all sounds vaguely russian. “ _Nawet przed tobą, kapitanie, takie rozkazy_.”

Gabriel goes down the corridor, his heart beating in his chest like crazy, mostly because suddenly the physical connection, it is back, tentative at first, but then growing stronger, as the music becomes louder and he nears the exit. He hears, or rather feels, the words.

“I believe we’ve reached an agreement, _oyabun_. Life of your brother for Hanamura.”

“ _Sihmada ninkyo dantai_ stands with you, Falcon. Let it be a beginning of a fruitful relationship.”

“Believe me, _oyabun_ , my employers will hold all their promises up. Now, please, enjoy the company, it seems my guest of honor has arrived, and as I have assured you earlier, _oyabun_ , there will be no record of this day, or night, for you.”

There is a chuckle in the background, behind the pulsing music, and Gabriel feels anger bubbling under his skin as he walks onto the dancefloor. His head snaps right, where he knows Falcon is, he knows it is Falcon, that one person among all the dancers, but the man’s face is all wrong, younger, unmarred, a different person, only his eyes are blue and hair white. And the smirk, a twist of the lips, a painful reminder.

Gabriel grabs his wrist and his fingers dig deeply.

“Shimada,” he hisses. Falcon only raises his finger to Gabriel’s lips, as if to shush him.

“Let’s not make a scene, mister Reyes. I bargained for the young heir’s life,” he moves closer, freeing his hand and linking fingers on the back of Gabriel’s neck, the gesture is too familiar, even as he moves his mouth to his ear. “It did come to my attention you are rather attached to young Shimada, mister Reyes. _Oyabun_ is under certain outside pressure to have him removed permanently, and my employers are reluctant to let anything interfere with our professional relationship.”

Gabriel doesn’t have an answer for him, even if they are almost in an embrace, his mind racing, looking for explanations, trying to force himself to push off the man that is all wrong but smells and moves just like he should. The music changes.

“It seems my little girl has a sense of humor,” Falcon shakes his head lightly, their lips not quite meeting. “Care for a dance, mister Reyes?”

‘ _All our times have come here but now they're gone’_ , resonates throughout the club.

 

***

 

Eight hours later, the Omnium opens again. The picture is still distorted. Six people leave. The woman is not with them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, so story happened. So I got only to a half of what was supposed to be in this chapter, because story. Yep, the story is my enemy. For giggly stuff I put some of non-english stuff through translator. Not everything came out back as it should but if someone is curious, the general gist of it should stick around. Still. As they say, no deteil is insignificant.


	6. No need of mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Chapter Summary: Sombra WikiLeaks – dead people keep popping up and alive people die. Boys are hormonal. Sombra loves her Daddy. Daddy has an origin story (kind of).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are getting longer and longer. And angstier. And plot happens, sometimes.

08.11.2082, fourth Sombra Leak. Among two petabytes of data, which mostly concerns LumériCo’s ties with Talon and data analysis tying Talon to an external unknown organization, there is no annotated file, but there is however a video recording that sparked several conspiracy theories. On the surface it is no different from the other files like it sprinkled through the other archives, showing direct or indirect fatalities, murders, accidents of negligence and abuses of power.

The camera shows an angled shot of a spacious bedroom with a double bed. While there is only one person in the bed, a woman, it is obvious the other side of the bed was used recently. There are two men visible in the shot: one standing to the left of the bed, by the window, next to the unoccupied space in the sheets, the other, his back to the camera, at the foot of the bed.

The woman is awake, and she lifts herself up to a sitting position. Her face stays neutral. The man at the foot of the bed raises his arm – the exact make of the pistol was not identified – and shots her five times in the chest. He then slowly lowers his arm to rest at his side.

The other man nods and probably gives instructions into his communicator. Fourth person comes into the shot after several seconds and forcibly escorts the shooter out of the camera’s view.

Two people in the video have been identified. The murdered woman is Amelie LaCroix. The man standing by the bed is Gerard LaCroix believed formerly to had been killed on the same night. The shooter and the fourth person remain anonymous.  

 

***

 

They stumble into the private lift, Jack leading him by his hand, moaning into his mouth - as his fingers dig into the other man’s spine. They crash into the back wall, metal denting, and Gabriel feels him arching into the kiss, his fingers clenching in his hair, breaking the contact only to take a gulp of air, and then he continues, predatory, starved, just like him. It feels so right.

They fall to the ground into plush carpet, seeking skin with frenzied intensity, and when Gabriel pulls back to let some space between them, he freezes, because the face that looks back at him now, lips red and bruised, is the one with scars, Jack’s face, older, different from the make-believe of the holographic disguise Falcon wore downstairs, on the dancefloor, but the eyes remain the same. And suddenly it feels so wrong that he can only stare in horror.

Falcon smiles, and it is bereft of his usual mockery. Hand reaches upwards to cradle Gabriel’s cheek in his palm, a gesture alien and forbidden.

“You surprise me, mister Reyes.” He chuckles. “You do not conform to the plan I’ve set for you, and I find that deeply endearing.” Falcon lifts himself on elbows and their lips again are nearly touching and Gabriel feels revulsion fighting with a simple, physical want, somewhere deep inside, still rooted in place like a deer in a headlights. With a growl and rising panic he escapes in a cloud of nanites, away from this travesty of a man he once knew. “Yet I still have you where I want, no, where I need you, mister Reyes.”

“What do you want?” Gabriel snarls, ready to lash out his ire and hurt, the display only drawing another chuckle from Falcon, who now holds out his hand, a small device between his fingers.

“Two and half hour, mister Reyes. We managed to bypass some of the kinks, so the hiccup like the one before shouldn’t happen again.” The terrorist tilts his head to the right. Waits for an answer.

“What about the hemorrhage?”

Falcon laughs, gathering himself up gracefully.

“So that’s what happened downstairs.” Hs smile returns with a mocking curl, yet there is an edge of fondness to it. “I’m actually proud of you, mister Reyes, even if my doctor advised me to burn them out of my lungs. Those nanomachines of yours, they might turn out to be useful in the long run.”

“You didn’t answer.”

“Oh, yes, mister Reyes, the time is optimal. The damage will be negligible and easy to fix if we keep to the schedule.” Falcon backs up, to the glass window overlooking the club. In his outstretched palm, the device still rests, an offer open. “And even if we don’t, it is still reversible.”

“In exchange for…?” Gabriel crosses the room and grabs it, holds in his trembling fist, unsure.

“My employers want something you stole from the UN. Something you don’t know the value of. Something that exists now only in that precious head of yours. The alpha and omega codes, mister Reyes.” Falcon reaches to his pocket and takes a cigarette out. He lights it and closes his eyes. “We know you never found any use for them, mister Reyes, because they must be entered at set terminals you never had any access to.”

“And what are they for?”

“An old and never used before anti-omnic system, mister Reyes.”

“Then I will keep this for later,” Gabriel knows it is a bad idea to agree, to play that game, the price will be too high, it always is, but the prize… He can’t let go of the prize dangled before him in the distance.

“You certainly are an interesting man, mister Reyes, but I would appreciate if you didn’t use it next time we meet, on Friday, in Bangladesh, then. It would complicate a lot of things.”

“I will use it when I see the need.” Gabriel turns to the elevator even as his answer elicits a laugh from Falcon.

“Miss Oxton’s offer still stands, mister Reyes, and believe me, even a man such as myself finds himself in a need of some downtime once in a while,” Falcon inhales the cigarette smoke slowly, tasting it. “Wearing such a famous face makes it near impossible under normal circumstances, though, hence the avenue and the smoke and mirrors.” He rolls his head lightly, white hair illuminated by the flashing colorful lights of the dance floor below them, his eyes impossibly blue, and for a passing second or two Gabriel can almost imagine he’s looking at Jack. It’s a pull, magnetic, and he doesn’t even realize he is in front of the man again, staring him down. Whispered ‘Gabe’ pushes him over and he claims those lips again, briefly, and then he throws Falcon face to the glass, pinning him with his own weight.

“You are never going to be him.” Gabriel growls, white hair in his hard grip.

“I’d never aspire to, mister Reyes, but would that man, John Morrison, do that?” Falcon hooks his arm behind Gabriel’s neck and inclines his head to kiss him, then turns and it’s Gabriel’s back pressed to the glass now, their bodies compressed snuggly together, a fit. With a gasp Gabriel draws blood with his teeth, each movement bringing another tremor, the face above him changing in the flickering lights. “Was it the Strike-Commander that needed the comfort, or was he the one offering it? Or was it both ways, Gabe?”

“Don’t…” His voice is cracking.

“…call me that, Gabe?” Comes the reply as Falcon’s hand finds its way into his pants and all is lost.

Later, when the revulsion and shame starts to creep in, he kisses Gabriel’s brow, gentle and tired.

“To answer the question you didn’t dare to ask, mister Reyes, because you deserve to know, in Zurich, John Morrison was already dead. He had been dying piece by piece for years. And that was neither myself, for my eyes opened first time merely five months later.” Falcon smiles and Gabriel flees, horrified at what he did, what he hadn’t done, and what he could have done, all crashing into one realization that he had failed, then and now.

Falcon lights another cigarette when arms flickering into existence in pixelated pink and violet embrace him from behind.

“I think I won’t be jealous, if you keep him, Daddy, I think I like mister White Knight. He compliments you. Will you keep him?”

“I don’t know. Did you win, my little girl?”

“It was a stalemate, but I had fun. I think I like the gamer girl too.” Sombra chuckles.

“Good. You need to make friends. I’m not going to be around forever.” Falcon lightly strokes her hand.

“Don’t be so gloomy, Daddy. I will keep you safe. You will be my game in a game in a game, Daddy.”

 

***

 

Fourth Sombra Leak contains the second graphic file. Again, it is a black background, with pinkish iconographic of a broken crown struck down with a column of fire. The caption reads: ‘Are you afraid now?’.

Filename is ‘Fear.boop’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I had a reason for Ana not being a cyclops, didn't I?


	7. Nadir - Zenith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sarcastic Chapter Summary: There is a snuff movie, Falcon is in trouble, Gabriel has a nervous breakdown, Hana hates not winning, and Sombra misses her daddy.

On 15.03.2084 a video is uploaded on a prominent conspiracy forum by an anonymous user with a question if he is right with his identification of the subject of said file. The user provided links to an unsecured databank connected to the web on 02.03.2084 and all logs pulled from the machine. The logs and authenticity of the source were verified by other users. Next day, the databank disconnects, having obviously fulfilled its purpose.

The file is heavily analyzed. There is no proof of any tampering or editing found, and if the timestamp from the device is to believed, the first part of the video was recorded on 12.08.2077 and the second on 13.08.2077.

The video file is three hours forty two minutes long, with two distinct parts. The first part is registered by a mobile device with lenses calculated to be positioned between two to four millimeters above the ground level. The sound is heavily garbled, to the point of being incomprehensible.

The shot pans a nondescript room, stopping and focusing on a group of five people sporting Talon design fatigues. After two minutes and thirty seconds from the right side enter three people, two of them dressed in the same way as the other participants, and between them, with hands secured behind his naked back, is a third person, the supposedly intended subject of the video. Biometric analysis, on top of the fact that the man wears the iconic mask, corresponds with data derived from televised appearances and indentifies him as Falcon.

After a minute it becomes apparent that this is an interrogation of sorts being recorded. Falcon stands unsteadily, held up by both men flanking him, his head is lolling slightly. He is answering the figure on the left asking questions.

At six minute twenty five seconds mark, Falcon suddenly surges up – bringing his weight on both of the men holding him – and throws his legs up and forward, hooking his feet on the neck of the person that seems to be leading the interrogation. It is obvious that he manages to break their neck.

Four seconds later the men holding Falcon release him, sending him tumbling to the ground. The man flanking him on right produces a device, identified as a heavy duty tazer similar to a line produced by a Vishkar subsidiary, and uses it on the terrorist.

The first part of the video cuts off at eight minutes fifty two seconds mark when the seizures brought by the applied device seem to subside.

 

***

 

Gabriel comes back to the hotel in the morning. Genji looks at him like he wants to say something, but holds himself. Whatever it is, and Gabriel does have a certain suspicion, the young Shimada doesn’t bring it up. Hana, on the other hand, is open with her displeasure.

“We were supposed to look after your back, halabeoji,” she slips into Korean showing how upset she is – having trouble suddenly to find an English word. “And that, that… nyeon, she was stalling! I couldn’t beat her and I’m the champion!”

“Nyeon?” He isn’t familiar with the word and waits for her to elaborate while they pack.

“Whore. Wasn’t playing to win but to draw!”

“Yes, miss Song had truly become frustrated. We were almost thrown out,” Genji hides a little laugh behind his hand, but his next words are solemn. “The other player, their nickname was ‘The True Sombra’.”

“And she played high ranked match! I would know her! Bitch!”

“Hana, we have to get to the jet,” Gabriel can’t deal with this, not now, he wants – needs – to feel safe, as safe as he can manage, before everything tears him apart from the inside. He needs to forget those piercing eyes that appear to know more about him that is possible for the person residing behind them, because sure as fuck, that thing isn’t Jack. Can’t be Jack, even if it knows how to play him, knows things no one else would. So his voice is restrained, almost monotone. “We will have enough trouble getting out even before it’s discovered.”

“I… We are ready,” Hana, perturbed, steals a quick glance at Genji. They both nod. “Sorry, grandpa, I didn’t mean to…” She falls silent when he raises his palm.

“Enough. We need to move.”

 

***

 

Angela still fusses over them when they return. Gabriel manages to finally evade her, but fails to avoid Genji, who stops him in the back passageway.

“Commander…” The boy starts tentatively, finally decided to broach the subject absorbing him earlier.

“I take it you spoke with your brother,” Gabriel notices the subtle surprise. “I’m glad you were both, as it appears, civil, since the building was still standing. He made a deal with Talon.”

“He did… frame it a bit differently. He struck a deal with Falcon, he mentioned it specifically. My brother, and his officers, find Talon distasteful and untrustworthy.” Genji mulls over his words. “He mentioned Falcon’s employers, with the implication being they are not the same as Talon in this case.”

“He works for Talon specifically,” Gabriel repeats.

“I got the impression that he didn’t need the deal, that the Shimada-gumi didn’t have to make it, and the reasons for it were entirely different than sparing Hanamura from something,” Genji enumerates. “My brother was always good with saying things without talking about them. But, he did have someone wearing Talon insignia with him,” the boy falters, his eyes escaping to the side. “It’s… it’s nothing, commander,” he adds, at the same time ending the thought he wanted to share before voicing it fully. “I just need to think.”

Gabriel manages a tired chuckle that does not reach his eyes.

“You and me both, Genji,” he waves him off and continues on his way, even with questions nibbling at the edge of his mind, something in a way young Shimada phrased his words tugging insistently at his thoughts. But he is too drained, the fatigue settling deep in his bones, not physical, but something else, and he hesitates before entering his own quarters.

But she is there, waiting, arms open, and Gabriel almost runs into her embrace, collapsing to his knees, clutching at her back desperately. Ana, the only constant, the rock he can cling to in the storm his emotions are now as the first sob starts to shake him and he can sense himself losing the solidity.

“Gabriel. You are safe,” her fingers move soothingly over his hair as she pulls him closer. “Tell me what happened.”

“I…” He trails off, feeling tears rolling down his face, darker streaks on dark skin, and Gabriel clenches his teeth. “I’ve fucked him, Ana.” The loud admission brings about another bout of frantic spasms. She doesn’t stop her ministrations.

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have blamed you for that,” Ana sighs and leans over him, speaking directly into his ear. “He means a lot to you, to us all,” he doesn’t need to look to know she has a small wistful smile on her lips, “and it’s no wonder we will grasp at anything of his we can find.”

“It isn’t him, Ana. And,” Gabriel takes a deep breath, “he said Jack was being killed over years, years, before… And I didn’t notice it! I should have…”

“If he is telling the truth, none of us did, Gabriel. This is not your fault.”

“Of course. Not my fault,” Gabriel laughs hysterically – it’s the funniest thing he heard recently – and his voice cracks over words. “People change, don’t they? But they don’t change like he did, no. I should have seen it, done something…”

“Gabriel,” this time she uses her command voice, sharp and to the point. “Stop this.”

“You know, you’ve never asked, and I’ve never told that anybody,” he moves back, his hands twitching with the desperate urge to hurt someone else so he isn’t the only one suffering, “but in Zurich, it was Jack. It was his group, they planted the explosives, and he gave the command.”

“I’m sorry,” Ana whispers, again drawing him close, cradling his head to her breast. “I’m sorry,” she repeats, slowly rocking him, and Gabriel closes his eyes, crying silently until exhaustion claims him.

 

***

 

After the cut, the timestamp on the video changes to 13.08.2077. The device appears to be the same as the one that captured the previous footage, only this time the visual feed takes only a half of the screen – the other half taken by the thermal imagining and heart monitor. Again, there is no discernible evidence of tampering with the video.

The room filmed is small and bare, with metal grating over the floor. The camera is centered on the man lying curled on his side with hands cuffed behind his back, head turned downwards, the angle of the shot obscuring his face. There are significant injuries to his abdomen and thighs that appear to alternate between torn and cut, but the bleeding is miniscule, which can be attributed to the fact that under the grating is what seems to be a considerable puddle of blood. Biometrics again correspond with data gathered on Falcon.

Up until one and half hour mark the video tracks slight involuntary muscle spasm becoming sparser. At the same time the heart monitor shows the heart rate slowing down and the thermal imagining tracks the temperature dropping in the extremities.

After that point the heartbeat becomes irregular, and then stops. Shortly after the body starts cooling corresponding with usual patterns of death. When the temperature reaches 32,3 Celsius, the video cuts out to black screen with words in white font.

‘I miss you, Daddy.’

Incidentally, if the dates imposed over the images by the recording device are real, this footage is the last confirmed sighting of Falcon.

**Author's Note:**

> There's too little evil Jack going around, so I'm writing my own. Non-English speaker, criticism welcome.


End file.
